


The Fugitives

by TruebornAlpha



Series: The Christmas Caper [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Anal Sex, Blow Job, Detective Noir, Detective Stiles, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Murder Mystery, Rimming, Sciles, Singer Scott, Teen Wolf AU, Wall Sex, dumb boys, noir, shameless smutt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles are on the run from the police and from Theo Raeken's criminal organization. With no where else to go, they hole up together to desperately think of a plan as everything goes to hell around them. They only have each other and the truth, but somehow, it might just be enough.</p>
<p>Or, that Sciles detective noir fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fugitives

An odd sense of deja vu washed over Stiles. Like the first time he’d intruded on the singer’s home, he felt like he was seeing the pieces of a puzzle come together, but this time, everything fit the way it should. Even in a suit so expensive it could pay for over a month’s rent in his shitty apartment, the singer looked like he belonged here better than he did in Theo’s gilded cage. No one had stepped foot into the flat in weeks, months even, but Scott moved like he knew where everything was without looking.

“It’s a nice place, doll. You could still use a girl to come by and dust it every now and then.”

“I got you, and you’ve got arms, right?”  Scott snorted. He dug through the few cupboards built into his shoe box of an apartment and came up with a couple of thread-bare blankets, to offer Stiles. Scott could still remember huddling up in them, with only a couple extra shots to help keep him warm. It was worse in the summer, when the heat had nowhere to go. “Here. There’s not much, but… There’s not much.”

All his carefully laid plans had crumbled at his feet, and Scott collapsed into his bed, his head in his hands. He tensed when Stiles reached for him, squeezing his shoulder before draping both blankets around his frame. “Then you take them, and get some rest. You’re no good to me if you freeze to death. Who else is gonna tidy up?”

Scott’s smile was tired but real. Stiles liked it more than he should. He gave the singer his space, just barely beating back the urge to reach out and do something stupid. There wasn’t a pillow in the place, but Scott tucked his head against his arm and called it good. The detective had the good decency to wait until his breathing evened out before starting to snoop. It took him too long to find the loose floorboard just under the bed, and he didn’t know what he was expecting, but over half a dozen illegal firearms and a whole heap of ammo to sweeten the deal wasn’t it.

Who  _was_  this man? The sweet, naïve beauty with the heart melting smile? The seductive irresistible siren? The broken down victim with no hope left? Some kind of vicious enforcer who could take down an armed guard like it was nothing and had a stash that would impress a Mafia don? Stiles sat back on his heels and watched Scott, face still drawn with worry even while asleep. He knew nothing about who Scott McCall really was, but two things were abundantly clear: the young man needed help and he was dangerous.

Stiles quietly fit the loose floorboard back over the cache, but Scott didn’t so much as stir. Dark shadows marred his warm brown skin, still disheveled and used. No matter what the truth was, they were stuck in this together. The detective wished he had something to drink to warm him up and take the edge off.

He blew into his hands, already so cold. The warmth trickled weakly from the radiator, who would bother fixing the furnace in a slum like this? It would be a surprise if half the residents didn’t freeze to death over the winter. He carefully eased himself on the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress beside the sleeping beauty. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit in the entire place and he was cold. It was a necessity, he kept telling himself.

When Scott woke up hours later, he had inched closer to the warmth beside him, tucking his body against the other man without being aware. He blinked open sleep swollen eyes and smiled. His body had seized, aching muscles pulled tight as he tried to stretch and he groaned. Hopefully he could get a hot shower before any of the other residents used all the water.

Yet before he could even try moving, the detective reached out and adjusted his blanket, pulling until it covered Scott’s legs. Then he dropped a final, affectionate pat on the singer’s hip, all without needing to open his eyes, as if he’d already done so a thousand times before. Scott’s smiled sweetened into a fond little thing that only deepened after he kicked his leg out, and the detective moved to tuck him back in again.

“Stiles.”

Blood shot eyes squinted blearily up at him. Stiles was still battling the aftermath of the previous night, but Scott’s grin cut through his throbbing headache in the best sort of way.

“Quit moving, and go back to sleep,” the detective whined, but he settled as Scott traced the curve of his cheek. Idly Stiles wondered where the boy had really gotten the callouses on his fingers. Honest work didn’t seem like much of an option anymore.

“I’m gonna try and grab a shower. Maybe some food. You going to be okay without me?”

Stiles huffed in annoyance and told himself he didn’t care for the way Scott combed his fingers through his hair, or how the other man pulled their blankets tighter around him. He told himself he didn’t care when Scott walked away, it was just the cold. The singer closed the door behind him, and Stiles reluctantly conceded that he needed better lies.

By the time Scott returned, he’d changed out his loafers for an older, battered pair, and his fine bespoke suit was replaced with a sloppy joe that might have once housed a family of moths. Looking at him, no one in their right mind would’ve ever thought of the untouchable siren that warmed Theo Raeken’s most depraved club, but Scott had food. Stiles could kiss him. That wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it. They cracked open a can of yams and corned beef, huddling together in the dim light. 

“It’s gonna get rank in here.”

“The way you smell, I wouldn’t notice a difference.”

Stiles snorted, elbowing the singer for revenge, but they shared tired smiles with their meager dinner. It wasn’t much of a reprieve after the storm they’d weathered, but not being alone for once held a world of difference. Scott almost convinced himself that the apartment was finally warming up, too.

“I could get you out of the city,” Stiles said, almost out of the blue, but he wouldn’t look Scott in the eye. It would be a risk, but if they tried, he figured he could get enough for a one way ticket out of there. Scott shook his head.

“Theo knows I’m gone now. He’ll have people looking at the ins and outs of the city. He didn’t… He really didn’t want me going anywhere.”

“Got a funny way of showing it. Your boss made sure the brass’ll be giving us Hell, too.” 

Scott couldn’t argue with that. “Theo’s always had the cops in his back pocket.”

“Not all of them. There are a few good ones out there. I know her. Tate would’ve helped us.” Stiles would give a lot for a cigarette, or split-heating that’d be nice, too. He licked his lips, tried to hide how eager he was to steal the other man’s warmth, but Scott turned into him with ease, leaning against him without so much as a pause. Stiles didn’t know what he’d do if he reached out, but the possibilities were enough to make his hands twitch. “What were you planning on getting out the first time? Did it have anything to do with me offing Theo, or just the fact that your pretty face can drop a man almost as fast as your fists?”

Scott’s heart jumped to his throat, and he could feel what little he had in his stomach try and crawl up with it. He didn’t have many options left. They were stronger together than they were apart, but it was so much easier to doubt the detective. All Scott had left were the last pieces of his puzzle, and if he gave those up, there was no way he could be certain that Stiles wouldn’t try to string him up like Theo if he ever got the chance. Worse still, when Stiles found out how much Scott had done, the singer had no doubt that he would be furious.

“I panicked.”

“Well you panic real swell. Now spill.”

No way out then, Stiles was too stubborn to be held off for long. If he was going to face the consequences of his actions, then it was time to get it over with. Scott took a deep breath to steady himself. “I grew up in this neighborhood. It was just my mom and me, she did everything she could to take care of us, but it was hard on her. As soon as I was old enough, I started running errands for the Genovissi family. Just little things, you know, they had the neighborhood kids move packages and messages, or keep lookout sometimes. I learned how to fight and I was good at it, they let me move up in the family, but I-I never wanted to be part of the mafia. I saw what they did to people.”

He rubbed his thumb against the palm of his hand, face drawn with the weight of unwelcome memories and misplaced hope. He’d wanted out so badly, he’d been looking for something to believe in and Theo had given him everything. “I met Theo and I fell in love. Maybe I still love him, it’s not always easy to tell. He promised me everything I ever wanted and I took it. A way out, a new life, a chance to be famous and adored and up on stage where the world could see me, far away from all of  _this_.” Scott gestured to the cramped apartment. “He was the first person who ever loved me and I trusted him. I didn’t know he was just as bad as everyone else.”

Scott hung his head, swallowing the urge to lie. This last confession was the worst and he braced himself against Stiles’s wrath. “I never wanted to hurt people and it took me a long time to get up the nerve to leave. I knew I couldn’t just run, Theo knows everybody and he’s got so many resources, they’d find me before I left the city. I needed enough money to buy protection and loyalty so I could disappear. Maybe enough that I could stop him. I heard he was moving the Wolf’s Heart diamond into the city and I had to take my chance. I went to your office because I knew about your history with Theo. Hale had been dead a long time, he wasn’t going to cause any trouble, and I know what’s hot on the street. Everyone who’s anyone has drugs on their mind. I let you think you were looking for it so you could keep him distracted while I had Josh stash the real package for me. Poor guy, he never knew what it was, but he was the closest thing I had to a friend. I was just supposed to disappear, I didn’t know Theo would find out or go after you.”

There it was, the truth laid bare. He’d manipulated everyone in his desperate bid for freedom and had lost it all. Scott kept his eyes on his hands, unable to look at the other man. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I’m so sorry.”

With a swift kick, Stiles sent the table crashing against the wall. The singer flinched, trying to make himself smaller, and for one, awful moment, he wondered how thorough Stiles would be. The detective was breathing hard, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were alabaster white, but it was only when Stiles started grabbing his things that Scott looked up.

“I’m taking a walk,” he spat, doing his best to suppress his anger when his skin felt too tight. He’d been used from the start, strung along like a wooden dummy, with Scott’s hand so far up his ass, he could taste his fingers. Scott had selfishly orchestrated everything, and Stiles was quickly figuring out that he didn’t do well with the wool pulled over his eyes. Scott dared a glance at his face, but for the first time, Stiles felt sick pleasure at seeing how unsettled the other man was. He wanted to shake himself almost immediately, and wasn’t that the worst of it?

“I gotta ask, sweetheart. It’s fun not being the most selfish asshole in the room. Does sorry help when you got a dead man on your conscience?”

He didn’t wait long enough to get an answer, slamming the door behind him hard enough that the walls rattled.

Dead man? So Josh was dead then, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Theo had said so many things, it was hard to tell which were threats and which were truths. Scott curled on the bed and pulled the sheets over his head like he could disappear. It was a selfish thing to do, Josh had died because he’d asked for help. Everything had fallen apart, they were on the run and now Stiles was a target too, all because he’d wanted to get away.

This was the life he’d chosen, it didn’t matter that it hadn’t turned out the way he expected it to. He should have bit his tongue and found a way to get through it. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t happy as long as everyone else was safe. He shouldn’t have tried this. There was still time to leave, he could go back to Theo and plead for forgiveness. There could be a chance at fixing this, especially now that Stiles had stormed out. Who knew if he was even going to come back after finding out the truth? Scott squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. Maybe the right thing to do was to just go home?

Outside, Stiles yanked his collar up and snarled at the bitterly cold air. He’d lived in the city his entire life, but he’d never been to this neighborhood before. They’d never had much, but somehow he’d always managed to keep himself out of the worst of the slums. The only good thing was that no one here would recognize him. Hell, in this kind of neighborhood, you couldn’t even get someone to look you in the eye.

The bitter taste of anger settled over his tongue, like someone had cocked a shotgun off in his mouth. It didn’t help that his brain was all over the place. Stiles knew he’d been spoiling for a fight. The moment Scott dropped Theo’s name, the detective had have been willing to swallow anything the singer had thrown at him. Sure, the pretty package made it go down easier, but Stiles had been standing around with his head tipped back and mouth wide open. Unfortunately, Scott had known all about that, too.

It was so easy to hate people, even the ones Stiles cared for the most. Now he was trapped between a rock and a hard place, but the hard place was equipped with more guns than Stiles could carry. There was no one in his corner to help, except maybe the one who put him there.

A filthy little kid no older than seven bumped into Stiles. If he had a wallet worth stealing, he’d have been more concerned, but the harried young woman in threadbare clothes who rushed after the urchin still apologized to him as she rushed past. It was that time of year. The detective watched as she scooped up the kid, bopping him on the nose before digging through her pockets for a candy cane. She glanced over her shoulder like she thought someone would take it, but her little boy laughed and laughed. All around Stiles, the buildings were dilapidated and streets rundown. Lower Manhattan didn’t have much to its name, but its people were still pulling together for each other.

The detective shoved his hands into his coat and kept walking.

He’d lost his own mom when he was young leaving him with a father that meant well, but spent more time at his job than at home. Stiles thought that living up to his dad might have been the reason he couldn’t just let shit go. His Dad had been a police officer until an injury on the job forced him out and he picked up this private investigator racket. They were both obsessive and driven, ignoring everything else in their lives when they were busy chasing a mystery. Once the string started to unravel, they needed to keep pulling until it all fell apart. It was a flaw in the Stilinski men. They hadn’t celebrated Christmas in years, they’d barely spoken about anything that wasn’t related to a case or criticizing Stiles’s drinking on the job.

But before that, he could remember their apartment decorated for the season. His mother had loved to celebrate and hung fresh wreaths on every wall. He remembered the look on her face when they would drag home a tree for their front room and the way they all laughed when it was too tall and they had to cut off an extra foot from the top. Those memories were a lifetime ago, now there was just the cold pavement beneath his feet and a man who’d dragged him into this mess with the sweetest lie. What a sucker he’d been! Someone just had to ask for help and give him a look with pretty dark eyes and he was tripping over himself to play right into their hands. It just proved you couldn’t trust anyone.

This sure was a hell of a way to spend Christmas.

Looking up at the night sky, snowflakes just kissing his cheek, Stiles watched the skyline of New York light up the night. It looked a million miles away, and if there was a poet in him, he would’ve said that it was beautiful. The city was also teaming with Theo’s flunkeys. If Stiles started running now, he wouldn’t have anywhere to go, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to stop. A man could be desperate enough to do almost anything to escape. In the back of his mind, just the faintest of whispers, Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how cold the apartment would be and if Scott had enough to keep him warm.

The wind picked up, and slowly but surely, snow covered everything in a pristine blanket of white. For one moment, the city looked as chaste and pure as its heroes would like her to be. Stiles walked away.

Heroes didn’t live for very long.

By the time he returned, his legs were aching and he wasn’t sure his toes were all accounted for, but before he even reached the apartment, the door swung open for him. Honest shock cut across Scott’s face, so much unspoken threatening to fall off his tongue before he backed away, giving Stiles room to enter.

On the bed, arranged by size, power, and market value was his weapons stash. Stiles was only mildly relieved that all of the guns were unloaded.

“That’s everything I have,” Scott said, like he’d forgotten that they weren’t in the middle of saying anything. “Everything worth anything.”

The singer swallowed thickly, taking an unsteady step forward then deciding that was already too much of a wrist. Stiles watched as he straightened his posture and clenched his jaw, pulling on another mask just as quickly as he could roll a dime. Except this time, the detective could see the cracks in it.

“I know this isn’t what I promised to pay, but it’s yours. Any of it, all of it, and you can go. I won’t say anything to anyone.” His voice faltered, and Stiles couldn’t look away as Scott worried his lip, trying to beat back his fears. Apparently Scott really didn’t know how that could affect a man. “I can’t solve anything. I really wish I could, but… At least this way, you’ll have some kind of ace in your corner.”

“And what about you?” Stiles ground out, shaking the show from his coat and watching the pile of weapons warily. “What are you going to do?”

Scott rolled one shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.” It was a lie. The only hope either of them had was to go back to Theo and beg for forgiveness. He’d survive it, he’d been hurt before and he would find a way to make it through. It was always easier to brace himself when he saw the blow was coming. Admitting his plan out loud was a different thing. Pain was a private thing, he tucked it away beneath bright smiles and clean clothes where no one could see him fall apart. He was responsible for so many mistakes, it was also his responsibility to piece it all together again.

“You’ll just figure it out?” Stiles was incredulous, but the young singer was defiant.

“This is my fault, Stiles. You, Josh, Theo, all of it. I’m the one who got you into this and I’ll get you out. I’ll make sure that he doesn’t bother you and until then, this is enough to protect you. When it’s all over, you can sell it and it’ll be more than what I owed you for your time.” Scott smiled and if Stiles wasn’t looking for it, he could have been drawn in by the bright sincerity. “You don’t have any reason to trust me, but I’m giving you my word that I’ll fix this.

“You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

Scott’s smile faltered, a quick flash of frustration and rage that burned right below the surface. No one on earth could hate him more than himself, he’d cornered the market and steeled himself for Stiles’s attack. God, he was so tired of fighting. He’d been worn down until his edges were dulled and everything was numb, retreating far enough back to make it all stop. No one could hurt him if it was his choice, Scott kept telling himself that until he believed it. “No. This isn’t about your ego or trying to sell you out. I put all my cards on the table here. You know everything. Hell, you know more about me than most people. I screwed up, I get that. I’m never going to be able to take back my mistakes or make up for what I did. I don’t have an excuse and I’m not going to waste your time with one. I’m sorry. I am so sorry, let me try to get you out of this.”

“No, really, you think I’m an idiot. You don’t think I know exactly what you’re doing?” The detective scowled, pushing forward. Scott dug his nails into his elbow, biting back a snarl. He was so tired of being scared, and if Stiles was going to start swinging, he wasn’t going to let him get another shot in. 

“What Stiles? What am I doing? What do you want me to do?!”

“Can you just stop setting yourself on fire? I want you, for one fucking second, to stay the fuck away from the asshole who left you black and blue. ” Stiles pulled himself up to his full height and pointed an accusing finger at Scott’s face that Scott almost wanted to bite off, voice dripping with exasperation. He inhaled deeply, backing down because this wasn’t a fight he wanted to be part of. Taking a step back, Stiles held his tongue until the tension bled from his shoulders, and of all the things Scott expected that wasn’t one of them. “I told you I’m not letting him touch you again. Even if you’re a giant asshole.”

Stiles could have hated him. He wasn’t entirely convinced that he didn’t, yet he couldn’t willingly let Scott go knowing what Theo would do to him. Stiles wasn’t the best person in the world. He’d readily admit that, but there were lines he wasn’t willing to cross. He turned away from Scott, and gathered up his arsenal before bending over to stow them in their original hiding place.

Maybe it was okay to look out for the singer anyway. Scott was the only person in the world who was looking out for him, too.

Scott sat on the edge of the bed and warily watched the other man drop the loose floorboard back into place. If he’d been honest with himself, he was surprised that Stiles had come back at all. Maybe it was just because the two of them didn’t have any other option except for each other, but Scott was quietly relieved that he didn’t have to go through this alone. It had been a long time since he’d had a friend, trust was hard to come by and Theo never let anyone else get close. Scott had traded the streets for a cage that shined, but the loneliness had always been the constant in his life.

He flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, fingers worrying into the threadbare sheets. “Awww, detective. I didn’t know you cared.” Scott couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice, but there was no heat behind it. He fought because he was expected to fight and immediately regretted his words. Anger could be a dangerous thing, he’d seen how rage had ripped apart his own family and what it meant to bear the brunt of Theo’s. It was easier locked up inside with all the other things he wasn’t allowed to feel. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I appreciate you trying to help me out after everything that happened, I really do.”

The detective flopped down beside him hard enough to make the springs squeak, his anger burned out and leaving only a tired acceptance. If you couldn’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. “You’re still an asshole.”

“So are you, Stiles.”

“Probably.”

They lapsed into silence, Scott acutely aware of all the ways their bodies touched and struggling not to tense with every movement in case Stiles attacked. Trust, right? No more secrets. They couldn’t start over again, but maybe they could try something new. Scott finally spoke, asking the one question Stiles never expected.

“So, you want to make out?”

Stiles squawked, utterly gobsmacked and unsure how much of his dignity he’d have to protect, and just about to take Scott to town for all of it before the singer burst out laughing. It was heaving, hawing sort of laughter, and it only got worse every time Scott stole a glance of the detective’s dumb face. The bed trembled with it, and Stiles? Stiles couldn’t help but smile, too. It started as a fragile thing, like he was still trying to decide how annoyed he ought to be, but it got bigger and so much worse. Scott had such a _nice_ laugh, and after everything they’d been through, it felt so damn good to let loose.

“Oh. Oooh your face!” Scott snorted, wiping a tear from his eye. “Your dumb face.”

“Hey!” Stiles snapped, at the same time he let one rip. They stared at each other, like stunned little boys on a playground and burst out laughing. It was terrible and awful, but Stiles felt a lot warmer than when he first got back.

The days passed slowly. They kept their heads down and tried to pick each other back off the floor. it became obvious very quickly that they’d lost all the channels of communication they normally abused, but at least Theo hadn’t burst through their door yet. It had been a long time since Scott had visited this corner of New York, but even if he didn’t know who all the people were, he still knew enough of where they worked to keep them fed.

“He’s gonna make a play for you eventually.” Stiles pointed out.

“Then I gotta make the first move.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t immediately dismiss the idea. The longer he spent with this man, the more surprised he was at the things Scott McCall was capable of. Sure, he was that siren and a victim and a deadly trained mafia enforcer, but there was so much more to him. There was a sense of humor that always shocked the detective, sometimes snarky and subtle, sometimes crass but always enough to get him laughing. He was caring and worried more about everyone else than himself. That bright smile that could light up a room when he was on stage was almost blinding up close, completely earnest and just for Stiles, not that he could let himself think like that. It was easy to forgive what had happened when they spent hours together, playing cards or telling stories, but he couldn’t let himself forget that this wasn’t some kind of holiday hideaway. They were hunted men.

The detective stretched until his back cracked, draping himself across their bed (when did it start being theirs?) with a casualness borne of familiarity. He took a perverse pleasure in the way that Scott didn’t flinch away whenever they touched anymore. “So what are you going to do?”

Scott sighed, unconsciously turning into the other man. “We have to stop him from hurting anyone else. I’m not going to let him get away killing people, I can’t. We need to get proof of what he did to Josh and to Peter, who knows how many more of them he’s killed. I know he keeps this ledger with all of his business deals. If we can get a hold of that, then we can prove the shipments of guns he’s been smuggling into the city. Once the police take him down, they’ll definitely find evidence of everything else. We just have to get them close enough to look.”

A ledger with all of Theo’s back dealings? If Stiles got his hands on that, the police would have to finally take him seriously. Raeken would go down hard, just like he deserved. “Sounds good, only one little problem. How the hell are we supposed to get close enough to get it away from him?”

“Okay, so I haven’t exactly figured that out yet.”

“Then first step’s finding out where it could be. Where does he keep the important stuff?“

“All over the place.” Scott had been turning that question over and over in his head for almost as long as they’d been hiding. He knew where Theo kept the _expensive_  stuff, but that wasn’t a time he wanted to revisit. The club was one of his safe havens, a place he controlled everything, and some of the items he kept at his office brought in a lot more than just a pretty penny. Yet Theo wouldn’t trust just any safety box for something that important. Something that important would have to be near him at all times. Somewhere he would never expect anyone to dare take a shot at. “But something that big… Our best bet would be his hotel room in the Plaza.”

“The  _Plaza_?”

“Yeah, where did you think he lived?”

“In a hole in the ground behind a three-headed dog.”

Scott snorted, and Stiles quietly patted himself on the back. It was a problem. He’d been doing that more and more often lately, keeping track of how many times he could make Scott’s face scrunch up when he was doing his best not to laugh outright. Just because he knew he was doing it didn’t mean he was any closer to stopping.

“It’s well-guarded. He always has at least three men around him for heavy lifting, but it’s got a lot of ways in and a huge staff.”

“Then maybe what we should do is-”

“Divide his attention.” They finished at the same time, and Scott laughed, punching him in the shoulder before settling in closer.

“I can distract him, trust me. I’ll come up with some story while you find the ledger. You are the detective, right? You should do the detecting.”

“Wait, no.” Stiles’s grin disappeared and he was surprised at how strong the instinct to protect the other man could feel. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that asshole after what he did to you.”

Scott put a hand on his arm to silence him. “If we’re going to stop him, we need to get that ledger whatever we have to do. I’ll make something up, say I was kidnapped or something. He doesn’t have to believe it forever, just long enough for us to get what we need and get out.”

“Scott, no. If you go back to him, he’s just going to hurt you again.”

“And if we don’t end this, he’s going to hurt someone else.” The singer quirked a smile before reaching between Stiles’s ribs to pinch him until he yelped. “Besides, I’m not doing this alone anymore. I’ve got backup.”

This wasn’t a good idea, but the time for good ideas had passed days ago before they had to flee to this tiny, filthy little apartment with no hope. He wrestled Scott down into the bed, mock fighting until he ended up with his face shoved into the other man’s armpit. They broke apart with a laugh, staring up at the water stained ceiling and more at ease with each other than Scott thought was possible. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his guard down around anyone and could just be himself instead of what they wanted him to be. They weren’t friends, he couldn’t let himself think that they were after everything that had happened between them, but it was harder than he thought to pretend he didn’t want it. It would be nice to finally be able to lean on someone. “How about I play you for it?”

“Don’t talk like that, doll or I’ll give you something to play with,” Stiles warned, but there was a grumpy edge in his tone that Scott had been counting on. The singer’s smile took on a more wicked tilt.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type of guy who got scared.” He sighed dramatically. “But after your last _three_  defeats, I guess -awk!” Scott yelped indignantly when he got a pillow to the face, but the detective refused to relent.

“You cheated, McCall, and you know it!”

Scott howled on his side, laughing so hard he thought something popped. “Prove it! I win this set, and we do this! If you win, we think of something else!”

“Or we could do the smart thing and think of a plan that won’t get us killed.” Stiles harumphed loudly, so put upon Scott could taste it. The singer pushed his droopy weapon away, grinning from ear to ear like the worst sort of tease, and Stiles should have known then that there was no turning back now. Scott hammered the last nail in.

“ _Coward_.”

Stiles managed to scare up a pillow over the past few days and now tried to shove the entire pillow into Scott’s mouth. Scott was still laughing at him when he stomped across the room to get their deck. The very first time they played, it was under the guise of a friendly game, both eager to idle away their time. Now they knew better. This was war.

Scott’s smile was honed to its sharpest, the flashiest sort of distraction as he prepared the knife behind his back. Stiles’s entire world narrowed to the cards in his hand, the cold nothing more than a bitter memory, even as his leg fell asleep and started to tingle. They’d like to say that it was because they were playing with such high stakes, except they’d been the exact same way when they started betting with the stray buttons they found at the bottom of Scott’s cabinet.

Scott knew he’d gotten lucky the last round they played. Stiles normally wouldn’t have fallen to such an embarrassing trouncing, but he knew just how to use it now. Maybe it was a mistake, Stiles had brought his A-game, and two rounds in, the tension was so thick he could barely breathe.

Cutting his eyes towards his opponent, watching Stiles’s tongue poke out of the corner of his mouth, Scott took a deep breath and made his move.

“Do you have any tens?”

“God damn it!” Stiles hissed between his teeth and threw down a card as Scott just cackled. “You’re definitely cheating, there’s no way you anyone could win this much.”

Scott carefully set down the last of his matched cards with a smug grin that Stiles wanted to wipe off his face. “Sorry you just suck at Go Fish? It’s not my fault you don’t have any skills at this. A deal’s a deal, that means we do my plan.”

The detective would have argued more against the risk if he could have thought of any alternative. They were going to crawl right into the lion’s den and Scott was their sacrificial lamb. It was foolish and brave and stupid, but what other choice did they have? If there was a way, he’d rather be stuck in this awful little apartment as the city outside grew cold and grey. It was corny to still want things for Christmas, he was way too old to make stupid wishes, but he’d always been a selfish creature. “Fine, but we make sure that you’re as safe as possible first.”

“Awwww, Detective.” Scott batted his dark eyelashes at the other man. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Oh shut up.” He flung a card at Scott’s face. “I’m serious. If we’re going to do this, we figure out a way to get you out of there as quickly as we can.”

“Fine.” Scott swatted away the card. “Just…thanks for this, okay? You didn’t have to stay with me this entire time, especially when you found out what I did. This was all my mess and you could have walked away, I want you to know I appreciate it. It means a lot that you actually want to help me.”

Guilt was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotion, Stiles was always used to blaming others for his problems but it was hard when Scott was giving him that look. “About that, you’re giving me a little too much credit.”

“I could make fun of your face more if you’d like?”

“Funny. Your face is, I mean,” Stiles pushed back, but he was stalling and they both knew it. “You’ve been helping me more than you know, Scott. A few days ago, I might have become a fugitive from the law?”

“Might have?” Scott asked, features pinched.

“Definitely have.” Stiles winced. “Malia gave me two days, and… It’s been a lot longer than two days. The police definitely aren’t gonna be on our side now. They think I killed Josh.”

“Because of what Theo did.” Scott pieced the story together, his shoulders slumping, “And you didn’t have a choice to stay.”

There was a quiet sort of resignation in his tone as he pushed himself into a sitting position, scrubbing a hand over his face. Scott bitterly cursed that the only reason he could keep company was if they were forced into it, but that didn’t matter. Theo had done so much more than threaten Stiles’s life. He’d ruined any chance Stiles could have had of maintaining his old one. “Even if you left - could you still get out of town?”

“I wouldn’t want to, Scott.” Stiles insisted, taking him by the wrist and when Scott wouldn’t sit back down, he pushed himself closer. “I’m going to clear my name and get my life back. I’m not running from this. I’m dealing with Theo for me… And for you. You’re not going back to him. This doesn’t change any of that.”

“I did this to you.”

Stiles had been expecting anger, that had been his first reaction when people lied to him, but he was still so surprised when Scott blamed himself instead. No matter what happened, the other man carried the guilt and the pain to spare everyone else. It was brave and destructive, leaving Stiles at a loss. “It’s not your fault. I could have left and I’m not going to just abandon you. It’s not your job to save everyone, Scott. You’re going to kill yourself if you try.”

“If I don’t do it, who will? I keep trying to help people and I can’t save any of them. Not Josh, not you…”

“You’re trying, that’s more than most people do. You’re only human.”

Scott stopped, staring at Stiles with unreadable dark eyes that the detective always felt could drown him if he’d let him. He wondered if he’d insulted the singer before Scott moved forward, calloused hands gently cupping Stiles’s scruffy cheeks and pulling him into a kiss.

_Only human_. It had been years since someone had treated him like just a thing. A weapon, a toy, a sexual lure for rich men and women with fat wallets and greedy hands. Theo might have loved him, but he used Scott the same as everyone else. Scott sometimes forgot he was human himself most days, at peace with his place in the world if not ever happy with it. Through all the damage and the carefully constructed smiles he wore like a mask, Stiles could actually see  _him_.

The singer’s kiss turned desperate, cards spilling across the bed between them as he moved in closer. Stiles was just as eager, warm hands sliding beneath Scott’s shirt to trace along smooth skin. He stole the breath from Scott’s lungs, demanding more until he made the other man groan.

He turned Scott on his back, pressing him into threadbare sheets, and everything faded away when he could make Scott tremble like that. Scott was a far cry from the polished pretty boy that commanded Chimera’s stage. Days without a razor left him fuzzy all over, and neither one of them had picked up a comb since they’d left. Yet all it took was one look, and Stiles couldn’t remember what he’d ever done without Scott. It was just the opening he needed.

Scott dragged him in by the front of his shirt, close enough to slide his hands in his hair and lick his way into his mouth. It was sloppy and messy, too fast and too hot. He couldn’t stop pulling at Stiles’s shirt but couldn’t break away long enough to take anything off when the detective could move against him so well, grinding against him. Scott wanted more but it was too good to stop. He tugged hard on the detective’s hair, making him gasp as he kissed across Stiles’s jaw, working down his throat.

It wasn’t fair. Scott knew all the ways to make him squirm, and Stiles had been dreaming about this for so goddamn long. From the moment he’d met Scott and wanted him laid across his desk, naked and pleading and so eager for him.

“Wait, wait, you don’t have to do this, it’s-”

“I know.” Scott said, simple and unapologetic. He met Stiles’s eyes, smile soft around the edges and ever so slowly guided his hand under his shirt. He wanted one moment with someone who saw him as more than what he could do for them. He wanted someone who could care about him, even if it was just for one night. “I want you.”

Stiles tore off his shirt.

Scott shivered at the touch of cold air against his skin, keeping Stiles’s heavy weight against him to steal his warmth. Purple bruises still covered his body, older wounds fading to a sickly yellowish green and scars marred the perfection. He was almost embarrassed by the way Stiles looked at him. When he was on stage, the world wanted him and adored him, it was a heady feeling to know the affect he had on others. Stripped bare, Theo had marked him to make sure that no one would ever find him beautiful but Stiles was still hungry for him. If everything failed and Theo’s leash settled back around his neck, at least he’d have this. His choice. Scott was fucked no matter what, he might as well enjoy it.

He snarled as he yanked on Stiles’s shirt, impatient to touch him but every slow roll of the detective’s hips distracted from his efforts. Stiles yanked the shirt up over his head, getting stuck halfway through before finally pulling it off, hair standing in every direction and a smug grin fixed across his face. Scott laughed and pulled Stiles back down into a kiss, goosebumps racing across his skin wherever they touched.

They moved slowly, still half-clothed. They found a deliberate rhythm, the careful way they fit even with too many layers of frustration and cheap cotton between them. Scott tipped his head back as Stiles’s teeth grazed against his pulse, breathing hard and hot against him. Every touch was painfully controlled, barely restraining the building need that somehow made it all so much worse. A delicate, infuriating tease as Scott arched his body upwards with his legs spread wide.  

“Come on.” Scott murmured into the other man’s mouth. “Come  _on_. You’re not going to break me.”

Part of Stiles wanted to prove him wrong, to tear into Scott and take him apart, make him beg for him, plead for him, but then he ground his hips just so, following the beat of an unspoken rhythm, and Scott let out a deliciously frustrated sound that almost had Stiles creaming his pants. Stiles should have known there were better ways of breaking a man.

“You like that Scotty?” He whispered, dragging his teeth across Scott’s flush lower lip, getting it wet and staining it pink. This close he could feel every tremble, every gasp, and Scott looked so pretty when he felt so good he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. Stiles rocked against him with more self-restraint than he thought he could manage, pulling down his pants so he could finally get his hands around Scott, stroking down the long length of his cock. “You like it when I touch you like this? Show me how much. Come on baby, let me hear you sing.”

Stiles barely got the words out before he was pushed back, gasping as Scott turned the tables on him, trapping him against the mattress. He snarled into his mouth, kissing the detective hard and filthy, and Stiles didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Almost as much as you like hearing yourself talk, detective.”

No one was ever going to be able to call Stiles that again without him feeling obscene. Scott stripped him bare and straddled his hips impatiently, but Stiles groaned when he touched himself. It was the only thing that could slow Scott down.

Scott leaned in close, dragging wet lips down Stiles’s chest and sliding his hands down the sides of his body. Stiles choked on his sarcastic retort as Scott’s hand wrapped around his cock with long, slow strokes that left him dizzy with want. The singer took his wicked time, seduction and revenge mixed in a deadly combination. He circled his tongue around the tip of Stiles’s cock, sucking the head passed his lips as the detective knotted his fingers into Scott’s black hair. He panted for air as Scott looked up through dark lashes into unfocused amber eyes. For once, Stiles was shocked silent and Scott was infuriatingly smug.

He pulled off with a wet pop, kissing the sensitive skin between Stiles’s thighs. “Nothing to say?” He purred, gently stroking the other man’s balls in the palm of his hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quiet for so long.”

“Oh shut up.” Stiles tightened his grip, tugging his willing captive upwards so he could taste Scott’s swollen mouth, swallowing down his eager groans. “You can give me those doe eyes with my dick in your mouth all you want, I know you’re really an asshole.”

Scott laughed, fitting his body against the detective’s and rutting his cock against the cut of Stiles’s hip. He liked how easy it was, how responsive his partner could be. There was no pretending and definitely no price attached to any of this. It was just two people finding a connection because they wanted to and enjoying the way he felt to touch. Something simple and clean. “I know. That’s why I like you so much.”

“And maybe if you’re good, you can meet my asshole, too.”

And Stiles hated himself for it, but he laughed, rutting into Scott’s hand as a spike of need surged down his spine. It burned white hot beneath his skin, left everything feeling too tight because Scott was offering, and Stiles could resist anything but temptation.

He wiped that wicked smirk off of Scott’s face, grabbing him by the hips and lifted him into his arms. The singer gasped, wrapping his arms around Stiles’s shoulders, and all he could do was hold on when the detective lifted them from the bed and slammed him into the wall. He groaned eagerly, arching his back and trying to press closer as Stiles’s strong hands stroked across his thighs.

Stiles licked the sound straight from his lips, keeping him pinned with nothing but a filthy kiss as he reached for their bedside table. He smeared the petroleum jelly across his fingers and spread Scott open as the singer trembled in his arms, mewling and keening, until Stiles worked him open. His pretty kiss-bruised mouth fell open, eyes hooded with want as his head thunked against the wall. Stiles wouldn’t let him go easy, sliding one finger in right after the first, and a fat drop of precum spilled across Scott’s cock as he was filled.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Stiles slurred. “I can’t hear you.”

“Stiles, please!” Scott breathed, tightening his legs around the detective’s body and bucking his hips ineffectively for more. “You feel so good.” The petroleum jelly was cold and made him jump at the touch, but Stiles’s fingers were wickedly skilled. He was trapped in place, helpless as Stiles teased until he was begging for more. Theo had been demanding too, but there was always a threat beneath his hands. Theo had wanted Scott to feel good to control him and to prove that he was skilled enough to make Scott want him so completely. It wasn’t the same as the bright gleam in Stiles’s eyes when he moved just right and Scott gasped or the way Stiles explored his body so eagerly. Even the smug grin was different, full of humor and challenge that Scott found irresistible.

Stiles licked the sweat from the hollow of his partner’s throat, hands gripping hard into the flesh of Scott’s thighs to keep his legs spread wide around him. He spread the singer’s ass, pinning him hard against the wall as he pressed the head of his cock to Scott’s slick hole and groaned as he thrust just enough to pop his head through the tight ring of muscle. Scott begged and squirmed, but Stiles held him still and ignored the man’s pleas for more. He slowly fucked down into Scott’s cunt until he was buried inside of him, slick lube dripping down his balls.

He loosened his grip on Scott’s hips, just enough to watch the other man twist and writhe beneath him, struggling to find the leverage to move. His chest was heaving with effort, hands digging into Stiles’s arms as he tried to coax him to move faster as he worked himself into a frenzy. Stiles traced his parted lips with the tips of his fingers, shuddering as Scott whispered ragged pleas against his skin, so faint, so soft, it was almost like he didn’t know what he was saying.

It was almost too much to bear, his body aching with an undeniable pressure. He stroked down Scott’s sides, feeling him clench around his aching shaft, working him until Stiles’s head spun.

“Stiles!” he snapped impatiently, heels digging into Stiles’s ass. “I fucking swear if you don’t move-”

Anything he would’ve said died on his lips as Stiles rammed into him, sliding his back across the wall, his head falling back. It was fast and hard, the stretch around his greedy hole burning through his nerves, as Stiles’s cock dragged through him again and again, thick shaft pressing against his overworked prostate as Scott fought to even breathe. Stiles’s teeth closed around his pulse, digging into tanned skin, and Scott  _screamed_.

He couldn’t thrust, couldn’t escape Stiles’s grip. The only thing Scott could do was take it, voice hoarse as his toes curled and his heels dug deeper into Stiles’s back to spur him on. Stiles pressed his advantage, all pretense at ‘careful’ forgotten in the tight clutch of Scott’s body. Scott’s hands clawed red lines against the pale skin of his back, scrabbling for any kind of grip as sweat dripped from the ends of his dark hair. His neglected cock drooled precum between them, his belly slick and wet as he tried desperately to thrust back. Anything to meet that almost too-hard friction, that almost too-painful pleasure that filled him to his limits and threatened to burst.

Stiles snapped his hips until Scott gasped, catching each broken name on his tongue.  _Stiles’s_ name, not Theo’s. There was a sort of perverse glee at taking his rival’s prize, but more than that, that Scott had chosen him. That Scott eyes were blown black with need, that Scott had wanted him, even here in this tiny cramped apartment away from the riches and comfort that Theo could offer him. That there weren’t any games in the way Scott arched his back from the wall or tightened his body until Stiles buried his face in the other man’s shoulder with a groan.  He lifted Scott higher, arms trembling with the effort as wet skin smacked thickly, broken only by ragged panting.

“Right there!” Scott’s fucked out voice broke. “Don’t stop, I’m so close. P-please, ah…more. I need more!”

Stiles made him cry. He used him, breaking him open his cock as Scott whimpered and cursed, spitting obscenities in one breath and begging for mercy the next. Stiles couldn’t take his mouth off of him, kissing across trembling shoulders, mapping out every inch of skin he could reach with tongue and teeth. Scott let out a twisted sob as the detective’s hand curled around his drooling cock, palming him in slow, dragging strokes that didn’t match his punishing thrusts.

Pleasure assaulted Stiles from every angle, threatening to drag him down and all that mattered was leaving his mark on Scott’s tight little body. He tried so hard to hold on, and when Stiles cried out, filling Scott’s greedy hole with cum, Scott licked the sounds straight off his filthy tongue. He fucked the boy through his orgasm, cum frothing around his dick with each frantic thrust. His nerves were scrubbed raw, every touch of skin sparking wild fire through his veins. His knees threatened to give out, buckling as he pulled away, and Scott whined for him, fighting to keep him close.

“Stiles, I swear to god -” he spat, but Stiles put him on his knees, bending him over their bed. Scott’s ass was a mess of cum and sweat, absolutely filthy. Stiles spread his cheeks to get a better look. Scott opened up on his fingers so easily, slick dribbling down his taint and across his balls.

“Stiles please, please, please…” Scott whispered, head hanging low, bucking his hips like he could push his partner in even deeper, but Stiles didn’t have an answer. He just ate Scott out until he broke.

Scott came again, body shaking and hips stuttering as he spilled the last few drops across their sheets. He couldn’t hold himself up any longer and his arms gave out, sprawling on the bed and breathing hard. Stiles laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before flopping down beside Scott, bed squeaking under his weight. He walked his fingers up the curve of Scott’s spine until the other man shivered, trying to focus hazy eyes enough to smile. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s Stiles Stilinski, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The singer laughed and reached for the other man, cupping his face and swiping his thumb across Stiles’s slick stained lips. Scott licked the cum from Stiles’s mouth, winding tired, sweaty limbs around the detective. His heart knocked hard against his ribs, lungs tight and burning, but at peace. He gave a hoarse laugh, stretching back against the bed until his aching muscles protested. “Thank you.”

“For giving you the best orgasm of your life?” Stiles flashed his partner a toothy grin.

_For seeing me as a person and giving me something without a price tag attached._  Scott laughed again, slapping a hand against the other man’s chest. “Yeah, okay. I’ll let your ego have that so you don’t start crying.”

Stiles stroked his hand through Scott’s damp hair and contemplated smothering him with a pillow, but it was too much effort to reach for one. “Still an asshole.”

“You are what you eat, Stiles.”

“That’s it, buddy.” 

And Scott laughed the entire time Stiles valiantly tried to suffocate him in his armpit.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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